Crumbled
by MissingMommy
Summary: Katniss' and Peeta's children try to handle the glares, whispering, and laughing. Rue and Cinna are determinded to figure out why they weren't treated with more respect. Just a moment in their family. One-shot


A/n- I own nothing of this brilliant piece of work.

I sat in a corner furthest from the door of a crumbled, abandoned building not far from my home. It was dark in the room I was curled up in. The roof was intact over my head, even though it was liable to crash down upon my head at any second. This was my safe heaven. It was one of the only buildings left standing to commemorate the war that happened before my birth, before my siblings' birth.

My parents had always kept the details of the war from us. I only know what happened through stories in the history books at school. My classmates _knew_, and by the stares I was receiving, that my siblings were receiving, I knew that we were missing something ever so known. That's what drew me to this abandoned building I was hiding in, frightened to face all the stares.

Light flooded in my heaven and three figures appeared next to me. My blue eye had adjusted to new appearance of light, and I made out who was standing in front of me; my siblings. "Rue, schools over. Mom wants us home," my brother said, his gray eyes meeting mine. I nodded, but continued to sit. "Rue, I'm not kidding. Hurry up. Mom isn't feeling well."

"Cinna, tell mom I'll be home in a bit. I have to clear my head," I replied, placing my arms around my legs and pulling them closer. Cinna grabbed our younger brother and sister's hand and led them out of the building. I caught the glimpse of Cinna looking back at me, shooting me worried look before leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I closed my eyes, trying to get my eye to focus in the dark. Instead, I saw flashes of the student's shying away from me like I had a disease. They would stop talking when I entered the room. I just don't understand what happened that was so horrible that everyone would resort to pointing and laughing behind my back. They just couldn't tell me what happened. They couldn't let me understand what was wrong with me, with my family.

These were issues I tuned over and over in my brain until I knew it was almost dinner time. I stumbled to my feet and went to the door. The streets were darkened, with little light shining from a third-crescent moon. I stood in front of two story beautiful house that was my home. I opened the front door as quietly as possible and shut it just as silently. I glanced and saw my dad sitting in the living room, and my mom not far from him in the kitchen, presumably making dinner. I snuck up stairs to Cinna's room, where we usually gathered after school.

"Took your time getting home," Cinna noted, without looking up from the cards in his hands.

I sat down and dealt myself seven cards. I study my siblings. Cinna seemed just as troubled as I did. His gray eyes were darkened and his blonde hair was a mess from running his hand through it. I turned my eyes on Prim, beautiful Prim. Mom says she looks just like her murder sister did at that age with bright, happy blue eyes and sunshine hair. She was so young, barely seven, which made her unable to understand what Cinna and I knew. Her eyes just glowed with happiness, and she was so naïve. Haymitch was the youngest at six. His hair was as dark as mine but with Cinna's gray eyes. He was bubbly, carefree, and trusting.

We continued to play until mom called us down to dinner. "How was school?" my dad asked so nonchalantly.

Haymitch and Prim babbled on about their days, Cinna just shrugged, and when it was my turn, I shrugged my shoulders and replied with, "It was okay."

"Don't lie to us, Rue. We know you've skipped every day this week. What is going on with you?" mom replied, putting her silverware down.

I mimicked and shrugged. "Nothing's going on," I said, uncertainly as if I was trying to convince myself.

It was only when my dad placed his hand on her arm that she backed down from our glare, "Katniss, we can have this discussion after dinner. Preferably not in front of Prim or Haymitch." sometimes I loved my dad for being able to calm my mom like that.

I admit mom and I never truly saw eye to eye. I prefer my dad, since he's a little more understanding than she is. It's not like she doesn't try though, so don't get me wrong. I finished my dinner, and my parents sent Haymitch and Prim to their bedroom's so they could speak to me and Cinna alone.

They shut the door and sat down on the loveseat, holding hands as usual. Cinna and I took separate chairs, and I fidgeted with my hands in my lap. "Cinna, Rue, we know something's going on. Both of your grades are slipping, you're cutting classes, and you hardly speak to anybody anymore. We're trying to help you, but we can't if you don't tell us what's going on," dad said. When we got in trouble, dad was always the one to speak to us since he was always the more understanding one.

"Nothing's going on," Cinna stated flatly.

"I can see the pain in both of your eyes, Cinna. Just tell us what's going on," dad repeated.

"What? So you can go fix our problems for us? No thank you. We can handle them," Cinna growled. It was one of the few occasions I saw Cinna get angry. After he said the last thing he left. I got up and chased after him.

"Cinna," I called as I caught up with him on the second floor. "Wait, I just want to talk."

"I'm tired of talking, Rue," he turned around. "I just want to know what they are keeping from us. I just want to know why we're treated like outcasts and no one will come with a ten foot diameter of us," he threw his hands up, pacing back and forth in front of us.

I checked over my shoulder to make sure dad and mom didn't follow us, before making a suggestion. "Why don't we go into the forbidden room, then, because from what Uncle Haymitch says that's where they keep everything from the war."

Together, we snuck off to the room at the far end of the hall, that we were forbidden to enter. Cinna picked the lock, and we slipped into the room. What I saw frightened me more than the glares. I instantly regretting coming in. Pictures covered every inch of the walls. Gruesome, horrifying, and just plain disturbing images of people hurt, killed, or dead. I noticed several pictures of mom and dad on the wall. As I looked closer, I saw dad's signature at the bottom of each, identifying him as the painter.

In the center of the room was a television with tapes piled under it. I walked over and picked up the top on. _74__th__ Hunger Games- Peeta and Katniss, _it read_._ As I read the other titles, I realized that they were tapes of all the Hunger Games titled with the winner. "Cinna, I found a video of their time in the Hunger Games," I said softly, tapping him on the arm. "Let's watch it," I decided.

"Yes, then maybe we might be able to understand why everyone hates us," Cinna agreed, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

I popped the video in the player and pressed play. For the next two hours, we watched in horror as we saw the death of many kids, no older than we are. We were frightened. I saw how mom volunteered to go instead of her sister, Prim. I saw dad confessing his love for mom during his interview. It was definitely something the world never saw before.

Mom and dad came busting in the room, right after the murder of a girl no more than twelve, and mom's murder of her murderer. Her name was Rue. My parent's named me after a girl that she had a hand in killing. "Cinna, Rue, what did we tell you about this room?" my mom demanded, her hands on her hips.

"That it was forbidden," Cinna hung his head as he did when he knew he had messed up.

"Exactly. Now why were you watching that tape? You shouldn't see that," my dad came in and turned it off.

"Because I'm tired of not understanding, why everyone laughs and points at me behind my back. I wanted to know why everyone hates us so much they won't even come close to us. I'm tired of being the outcast because we don't know as much of the history as everyone does," I threw my hands in the air, just as Cinna had done earlier. I ran my hands through my long, dark hair. "But now I understand why they laugh when they realize my name is Rue and I'm your daughter."

"Why exactly do you think that they laugh at you?" my dad demanded.

"Because you named her after a girl you couldn't protect, a girl that you got killed," Cinna replied.

"Go to your room, Cinna. You're grounded. How can you say that about your mother?" dad's voice was full of disappointment, a side that rarely ever showed in his voice.

"But Cinna's right," I added. "You did name me after a girl you got killed. She had a family, you know?"

"Rue! That is enough young lady! Don't you think we knew that each person entering the arena had a family, friends, and love ones? Because we did, we knew that they did but we had to put aside our feelings to make it out of the arena alive. Don't you understand that it was all about survival in that place," dad said. Mom had left the room in tears. "We named you Rue because that girl was strong and determined to make it out of that arena alive. We named you after her in her memory and honor, just like we named your brothers and sister after people killed in the name of freedom. We fought a war for you and your siblings never to go through what your mother and I went through."

"I'm sorry, daddy, I just wanted to know what happened," I hung my head in shame.

"I painted these after the first time I entered the arena," he walked around the room, looking at each of the painting again. "Memories of what happened in that arena. Even though your mother didn't truly love me then, she got us both out safe. I had gone into that arena, knowing that I had to protect her as long as possible, to make sure that she got out alive. Because she was honestly my world life, I couldn't life without her. Even though she unknowingly started the rebellion that stopped the Hunger Games, I still wouldn't have changed a thing. Be thankful for what we did for you, Rue. Everything we did was to make your life better than ours were."

Dad turned to walk out. "Dad, don't you think that Cinna and I are old enough to know what truly happened? I mean were 15 and 13, the ages in which we would have been in the reaping, destined to kill someone."

"I guess you two are," he sighed in defeat. "Next time, come ask me and don't sneak into this room again."

A/n- okay so this has been on my brain for quite some time. I'm just glad to get this from clogging my thoughts. Did you enjoy?


End file.
